


The Orangery

by Lacerta26



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Emotions, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Drama, Feelings, Holidays, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 04:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17257517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacerta26/pseuds/Lacerta26
Summary: Harry does the maths, Christmas is five weeks away, and thinks of bringing Eggsy to Hertfordshire and subjecting him to all that. As much as they love to play with perceptions when the mood strikes them it would not be the same with Harry’s mother and father, his awful brothers and his dreadful cousins.*Harry and Eggsy visit the Hart's for the holidays, Harry struggles and Eggsy is always there for him.





	The Orangery

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sat in my drafts for ages and I can't keep staring at it. It's not especially festive but it's set around this time of year so it's a good a time as any to post!
> 
> Happy 2019!

Harry regards Eggsy from over the top of a cocktails menu, ensconced in a creaking leather armchair, in the gloom, on the top floor of a Soho private members’ club. Eggsy is leaning against the tiny bar, flirting with the barman and Harry is _this close_ to not having any of it. They are ostensibly here on what amounts to a babysitting mission. Keeping an eye on the stepson of a minor member of the aristocracy who seems to have got himself involved in dodgy dealings on the continent. Harry privately thinks he’s covering for his stepbrother who stands to inherit the title and estates and is a bit of a dick but Merlin insists they keep an eye on all lines of enquiry. So here they are not quite working and not quite relaxing when he’d rather they were anywhere else.

He scans the room, at the couples and groups, lounging about self-importantly. This is Harry’s set by all accounts albeit mostly a generation or two younger. Much closer to Eggsy’s age. The woman behind the front desk did not raise a single hair of her perfectly manicured eyebrows when Harry handed over his membership card and motioned to Eggsy, ‘and one guest.’ Her eyes slid over the pair of them but she had merely said, ‘of course, welcome back Lord Hart,’ with a tight, professional smile.

Eggsy kept a mercifully straight face but as they started to climb the many flights of stairs, past rooms glowing in low light and filled with the tinkling sound of upper class laughter, he grabs Harry by the elbow and murmurs, ‘fuckin’ hell Harry you ain’t actually a Lord are you? Is that just one of your aliases?’

‘Please, I’m currently a member here as myself only. My father is an Earl, have I not mentioned that?’

‘What? No!’ Eggsy recovers himself. It’s cruel really to keep throwing these snatches of himself at Eggsy just to watch his eyes go wide but Harry reasons that he’s shared all the most important parts of himself already and Eggsy looks so charming when thrown off his stride.

‘You’ll be an Earl one day then, country house and all that?’

‘No, I’ve two brothers. Mother and father have their heir and a spare all sorted. In a different century, I’d have joined the church I suppose,’  he’s often flippant about his family much to Eggsy’s dismay who clings to his own family like a man drowning. Harry feels the sting of the distance much more keenly when Eggsy gives him a look full sadness but no pity. The moment passes and they reach the top floor, Eggsy almost bumping into a man coming down, muttering an apology.

Harry selects a table that gives them a good view of the bar, the door to the stairs and the larger room beyond as Eggsy trips over to the bar with a guileless smile on his face.

‘Alright, mate,’ he says to the barman rounding out his South London accent. They haven’t really talked about a cover; Harry is here as himself after all and could conceivably be having a night off but Eggsy tends to revert back to his natural accent if he feels out of his depth, pulling it over himself, a shield of hard edges and wariness, but that won’t go over so well here.

Except the barman is laughing now, at something Eggsy’s said, leaning closer as he pours their martinis from a cocktail shaker, and Eggsy makes a conciliatory face and turns to point at Harry. The barman raises his eyebrows, far less subtle than the woman at reception, and murmurs something low in Eggsy’s ear. Eggsy shakes his head gently but they’re both still smiling. Then Eggsy is heading towards him with the drinks and an easy smile.

‘Making friends, I see,’ Harry says as Eggsy sets the drinks down and slides into the chair next to him.

‘Eduardo was just telling me how fit he thinks my boyfriend is,’ says Eggsy, ‘gave us the drinks for free and all, wouldn’t mind a threesome if one’s on offer. It’s true what they say, then, the richer you are the more free shit you get.’

‘Darling, I don’t think it’s my bank balance that will be getting you _free shit_ tonight.’

Eggsy hums, non-committal, and continues to stare round the room rather obviously as if he’s trying to spot celebrities.

‘There’s nothing for it now, but we are here to attempt to blend in somewhat so…’ begins Harry but Eggsy is already snorting at him, ‘Harry, you like it when I play at being your bit of rough because you’re a dirty old man but these people will be falling all over themselves to make friends with me because they’re desperate to reject their privilege. They might be here enjoying this thousand quid a membership private fucking members club on daddy’s credit card but if they can say, “oh no but have you met my friend Eggsy, he’s from _South London_ ”’ this in perfect RP, ‘they can pretend it don’t mean anything to them, that they don’t need it.’ He finishes, smug.

Harry could kick himself, of course, Eggsy is right. Most of the people in here are children compared to him and while they might be the same class, hell he’s probably related to a few of them, the generational divide gives Eggsy a far better chance at infiltration. Eggsy is looking at him fondly and like he’s a bit of an idiot, ‘anyway, Eduardo says Josh and his friends normally get here about 9.30 and today is his birthday, so…’

‘Oh my god! Uncle Harry!’ interrupts a shrill voice to their left and Harry’s second cousin Petronella is marching away from a group that has just arrived and is swooping down to give him a kiss on both cheeks.

‘Hello, Pet,’ Harry says affably as she pulls up a chair, glancing between himself and Eggsy, eyes shining with, he guesses, all the assumptions people tend to make when seeing them together for the first time. Harry is not especially close with his family; upper class repression and a job as a literal secret agent tends to put the kibosh on having heart to hearts with any regularity. He is as out as one could reasonably be to a very conservative extended family he hasn’t seen in years and he has no idea how far news travels. God knows his mother avoids the topic of Harry like the plague in polite company. Petronella is only 27, perhaps too young to have ever considered Harry as anything other than a benign figure who bought her a pony when she was eight. He lives to be a cliché, really. Eggsy, in the end, makes the decision for him.

‘Hello, love, I’m Eggsy, Harry’s boyfriend,’ he offers her his hand but she grins and lifts up in her seat to give him two pecks on the cheek as well.

‘Boyfriend, really?’ she says but there’s no judgement in it, merely surprise, ‘mummy never said,’ she’s glancing back at Harry now, ‘you must come and say hello to my girlfriend, Heidi. We’re here for my friend Joshy’s birthday but you should join us!’ She’s gripping his arm and leaning in conspiratorially, ‘we can bitch about all our horrid family,’ and turning to Eggsy, ‘you probably have more gossip than I do about Uncle Harry, don’t you?’

Eggsy smirks but Harry is still lagging behind in a conversation he would have put money on _never_ having. Girlfriend? Wait, Joshy?

‘Is that Joshua De’Ath?’ he asks.

‘Yes, you know Joshy?’

‘Only by name, I know his stepfather, I believe,’ it might as well be true, the aristocracy is disgustingly intertwined, ‘we’d love to join you.’

Petronella grips Eggsy’s hand and leads them in to the main seating area to a group of about ten bright young things, city boys and girls, a couple of viscounts and isn’t that one a model? Saying, ‘everyone this is my Uncle Harry and his boyfriend Eggsy.’ There are handshakes and ‘alright old chaps’. The men take in Harry’s age and his suit and his stance and fall to deference, somethings never change, and the women see Eggsy’s clear green eyes and sharp jawline and start giggling.

Harry finds himself sat between Josh and Petronella, with Eggsy on Petronella’s other side. This literally could not have gone better if they’d planned it but Harry suddenly has no desire to get their mark talking because Petronella is leaning in to Eggsy and saying, ‘I haven’t seen Harry since I was about 15. I rather think mummy thought he was a bad influence and now I see why. Keeping him away didn’t work though, did it?’ and she’s grinning at the girl on Eggsy’s other side.  

‘So how did you meet?’ says Heidi and Harry really can’t be bothered to keep one ear on whatever Josh is saying about the stock market when Eggsy laughs like that and leans in to whisper, ‘he is a bad influence, he’s my boss,’ and Petronella and Heidi dissolve into peals of laughter.

Harry gamely makes conversation with Josh for half an hour but it’s clear he’s an idiot. He manages to place a bug on him for Merlin in the hope they might get something from his brother eventually and excuses himself to the bar. He watches Eggsy and Petronella chatting, they’ve already swapped numbers and Eggsy is showing her pictures of JB on his phone. Harry had rather hoped to keep him away from his family for as long as possible but he supposes Petronella has proven herself to be far superior to most of them.

‘He’s lovely, your boy,’ says Heidi at his arm, suddenly, following his gaze to their partners. She’s German, he heard Petronella say, very direct.

‘Yes, I’m very lucky.’

‘How do they cope your family?’ she asks, ‘her mother and father are always very rude to me.’

Because she’s gay or German, Harry wonders, both probably. ‘I’ve never introduced them actually, I don’t think my parents even know I have a partner.’

‘You’ve been together how long?’

‘A year or so, 18 months,’ long enough.

‘Ella’s invited you to Christmas,’ Heidi says, smiling, ‘I think she wants some back up in the good fight or maybe she just wants to see your father have a heart attack,’ her eyes widen like maybe she thinks she’s gone too far but Harry just chuckles.

‘I’m sure my brother would be delighted if that happened. He’s determined to inherit the title before he turns 60 and he would absolutely stoop to murder to get it. Although, generally it’s my mother you have to watch out for’

She laughs, bright and easy and mischievous, ‘oh, Harry you and Eggs must come! It will be so much fun, yes?’

Harry does the maths, Christmas is five weeks away, and thinks of bringing Eggsy to Hertfordshire and subjecting him to all that. As much as they love to play with perceptions when the mood strikes them; shocking people in turn with Eggsy’s perfect, crisp RP or defiant South London drawl, watching people who have previously assumed Eggsy was his son go indignant with shock when Harry’s hands fall on his hip or arse, the nape of his neck, it would not be the same with Harry’s mother and father, his awful brothers and his dreadful cousins. In truth Harry constantly finds himself drawing up short in the face of Eggsy’s willingness to let people see who they are, what they mean to each other. Harry was raised on the notion that what goes on between two adults in the privacy of their own bedroom should stay there. He has to make such an effort to even let himself indulge in the casual intimacy of a long term relationship in public. Add to that a healthy dose of his mother’s long standing bigotry it’s a wonder he even holds Eggsy’s hand in front of other people.

When they get back to the group with a fresh round of drinks Eggsy is telling Petronella about Daisy and she exclaims, ‘oh my god how sweet! Another cousin! She must come for Christmas as well and your mother too,’ Harry resigns himself to weathering whatever comedy of errors will come out of this. It’s that or poison them both with his fucking fountain pen.

*

On the street outside, their breath mists in the cold air as they wait for a cab, a civilian one this evening, and Harry says, ‘we don’t have to go to my parents for Christmas. Petronella is sweet but the rest of my family can be a little trying.’

Eggsy leans closer to his side and takes Harry’s hand, ‘can’t be worse than mine. Last time you came over for tea my mum threatened you with that cricket bat.’

‘In her defence I do repeatedly place her only son in life threatening situations.’

‘And you’re twice my age and you’re my boss, yeah, yeah.’

‘We really don’t have to. Wouldn’t you rather spend time with your own family?’

‘Nah, Harry. I reckon I’ll have to spend Christmas with my mum and Dais but I could join you for Boxing Day. Merlin’ll give us both the time off do you think?’

‘I’m Arthur, _I_ can give us the time off.’

Eggsy levels him with a look that suggests he’s a fool, ‘or we can ask him to send us on a mission to Siberia?’

‘If only, my darling, if only.’

*

Harry waits with itchy nervousness for Eggsy to show up at his parents home. His mother has been stoically tight lipped on the subject of his guest which means she’s furious and refusing to succumb to anything as tawdry as emotion. Harry’s brothers, John and Edward, have been less circumspect, cornering him in the library where he can’t escape, backed up against the romantic poets.

‘Henry, father says you’ve invited someone for Boxing Day?’ says John, the eldest and therefore most obnoxious of his brothers, born not just with a silver spoon up his backside but an entire fucking silver service.

Edward, raises his eyebrows like he hasn’t quite decided whose side he’s on. The middle child, Edward grew up without the expectations heaped on John nor with the looming spectre of inadequacy Harry has always carried around. He is by far the most amenable and sympathetic of Harry’s immediate family; this does not mean he’s above ganging up on Harry when the moment arises.

‘A boy,’ continues John with the kind of sneering disapproval he learned from their father; distant until you’ve proved to be a disappointment.

‘Yes, well. That can hardly be a surprise,’ says Harry. He routinely foils plots surrounding world domination and significant loss of life but here, in this house with more rooms than people, he feels once again like a ten year old boy at odds with his whole family.

‘How old is this boyfriend of yours, then?’ says Edward not quite unkindly, although it’s obvious they’ve been sent to get the details out of him.

He might as well bite the bullet; there’ll be no denying it when Eggsy arrives, ‘he turned 25 in August.’

Edward whistles through his teeth and John curls his lip, ‘that’s hardly older than Jack.’ Harry’s nephew, John’s son, possibly the only person more odious than Harry’s oldest brother, mercifully still away on an extended gap year at the grand old age of 21.

‘Tell me he at least when to a decent school, mother wasn’t sure. St Andrew’s was it, or Durham?’

‘Neither,’ says Harry, acidically, _that_ he learned from their mother, ‘I believe he managed a handful of GCSEs.’

‘Harry’s hardly going to be in it for the conversation,’ says Edward, grinning, ‘jolly good, old chap. We didn’t think you had it in you.’

Harry supposes he should take it as a compliment. The schoolboy ribbing about girls and sex and relationships has naturally passed him by and Edward looks positively gleeful at the sudden chance to take the piss. John on the other hand is looking distinctly sour about it.

‘Yes, well. Mother isn’t happy. She was very put out there wasn’t time to get one of the guest rooms ready so you can’t share.’

‘She tried to do that with Petronella and Heidi last year and it didn't work. But Pet’s always had bigger balls than Harry anyway,’ says Edward, ‘stop being a shit about it, John. Just because Harry’s midlife crisis is shaping up to be more interesting than yours.’

‘Where is Aunt Grace and Uncle Bernard? I’d have thought they’d be here by now?’ says Harry, grasping at the change of subject with both hands.

‘Bernard and Grace are arriving tomorrow but George, Petronella and her _friend_ aren’t arriving until New Year’s Eve. Caroline and David couldn’t make it,’ John says with a reproving sniff and, apparently satisfied he’s not going to get anything more out of Harry for the time being, marches out of the room, ‘I’ll be consoling mother if anyone needs me.’

Edward leans in conspiratorially, still looking over his shoulder at John’s retreating back, ‘seriously, Harry, are you alright? This isn’t actually a midlife crisis is it because it would be just the thing to finally give father the heart attack he’s been threatening because you’ve decided to start shagging some twink half your age for a lark.’

‘Where on earth did you learn the word twink,’ says Harry too taken aback to be coy about it. Perhaps Edward is not here on their mother’s orders and his irrepressible glee is genuine; aside from the fact he’s bringing Eggsy home Harry has made no indication on the seriousness of their relationship so Edward’s flippancy is to be expected.   

‘Oh, one of the kids I’m sure,’ says Edward blithely, ‘they’re sorry not to be here, they’re with their mother in the south of France. You always were their favourite. They were very pleased to hear you’ve met someone.’

Harry forgets sometimes, that his old life carries on without him when he’s off saving the world with Kingsman or enjoying what appears to be a protracted honeymoon period with Eggsy, safely ensconced in a world totally removed from reality, for better or worse. Edward’s divorce has been long and messy and he’s probably gone almost as long as Harry since seeing his kids.

Harry starts, ‘Ted, I’m sorry I didn’t…’ but Edward shakes him off, ‘my divorce is old news compared to your toy boy, I should be thanking you really. It’s all anyone’s talking about.’

‘Yes, I’m alright. More than. You’ll see when Eggsy gets here.’

‘I hope so.’

*

Eggsy arrives, mercifully late in the morning on Boxing Day when everyone has dispersed to various corners of the house to digest breakfast. He’s driving a Kingsman audi rather than one of the more flashy cars he’s always ogling; there have been some mutterings at breakfast that he’s only with Harry for his money and turning up in a sports car would have made that rather worse.

As soon as Eggsy steps through the door Harry sweeps him up the stairs, grabbing his case out of the butler’s hands, alert to the sound of approaching relatives.

‘Harry, anyone would think you’re trying to sneak me in. They do know I’m coming right? You can’t hide me up here forever.’

Up here means the Blue Room, right at the end of the house, as far away from Harry’s parents as one can get. Harry knows his mother will have toyed with making them stay in the bedroom right next to hers so she could keep an eye on them or following the age old adage _out of sight, out of mind._ Clearly, she’s decided her stomach can’t handle the proximity so they are in a corner room, next to Edward, who choses that very moment to step into the hallway.

‘Ah! And this must be Gary. Edward Hart, a pleasure,’ he says shaking Eggsy’s hand and beaming. Harry can see a tempting flush rise on the back of Eggsy’s neck; Edward always was the charming one.

‘Hello, call me Eggsy,’ says Eggsy, his accent settling somewhere midway between his real one and the affected version of Harry’s he often uses.

‘Eggsy. Wonderful. We’ll all be in the Drawing Room when you’re ready. I’ll just tell everyone you’re freshening up shall I?’ and he bustles off down stairs.

Eggsy leans gently into Harry’s chest on the threshold of their room, ‘he seems nice, I thought you said all your family were awful?’

‘Edward is the middle child, forever the mediator,’ says Harry as he leads them through the door, ‘he and his wife just got divorced, that’s why he’s here alone. I understand he’s quite pleased we’ve taken the heat off him with our illicit liaison.’

‘Liaison is it? I thought it were a relationship,’ says Eggsy bouncing down on the four-poster bed, shoes still on. Harry raises an eyebrow and resists the urge to follow him down on to it.

‘Would you like to freshen up? We should go down and say hello, get it over with.’

Eggsy looks briefly disgruntled and then shrugs, ‘nah, I’m fine. Who’s here? Is Ella here yet? She hasn’t text me back.’

That his boyfriend has been in communication with his cousin is a colliding of worlds beyond anything Harry could have imagined and he isn’t sure what to do with the information, tucks it away to digest later.

‘My mother and father are here, my older brothers John and Edward, who you’ve just met, John’s wife Catherine. None of their children could make it. My Aunt Grace, Petronella’s grandmother and my mother’s sister, and her husband Bernard will be here this afternoon. Petronella and her brother George will arrive New Year’s Eve, and Heidi too of course.’

‘That it? I thought you poshos had family for days.’

‘It’s only supposed to be immediate family this year. That and everyone’s getting divorced or has fallen out with someone and isn’t speaking.’

‘You sure it’s not cause your mum’s told everyone you’re shagging a pleb half your age?’

‘I doubt she’d have put it like that. Or have put it at all. My mother avoids the topic with charmless alacrity.’

‘And they all think you’re a tailor yeah? Just a normal old tailor.’

‘Less of the old thank you. I rather think my father suspects something; he worked in intelligence during the war. But yes, to all intents and purposes they believe me to be a tailor.’

‘And do I have to call them Lord and Lady Hart, your parents?’

‘Sir and ma’am will suffice unless they tell you otherwise. Are you ready?

‘As I’ll ever be. Are you?’

Eggsy’s looking at him with clear eyes, no hint of mocking; he’s here to support Harry, fully and without shame, which is still something Harry struggles to embody when he’s staring down the barrel of his mother’s icy reproach and his father’s indifference. Harry feels a flash of guilt for the way he’s conducted himself with Eggsy’s family. He’s been happy to follow Michelle’s lead and give family events a wide berth but he knows Eggsy would like them to get along better, to spend more time with his family, and Harry is endlessly thankful that Eggsy now considers him part of that family.

He kisses Eggsy then, gently, gratefully, ‘yes. Sorry, I didn’t ask; how is your mother? Daisy?’

‘They’re good. Mum had a go that I was spoiling Dais but who else am I gonna spend my money on? You?’ he grins and takes Harry’s hand, ‘and her new bloke seems alright. I’m gonna get Merlin to look him up just in case. She says we should both come round for tea after the holidays.’

‘I’d like that,’ says Harry, squeezes Eggsy’s hand to show he means it and leads them downstairs.

*

On the way through to the Drawing Room Eggsy gawps in a rather unbecoming fashion at the art on the walls and the silverware dotted about. He’s been in countless country houses at this point, rubbed shoulders with royalty, and other body parts, which they don’t mention _,_ but this is closer to home. This is an insight into who Harry is outside of Kingsman and their domestic little idyll at the Mews and the person Harry has worked to become rather than the person he is, by nature or nurture, because of his family. This will be the most frank Harry as been with him since they got together, laid bare by the honesty of family that can pierce to the heart of a person with a look, a half remembered anecdote or an offhand joke. Eggsy manages, of course, to break the seriousness that thought conjures by whispering cheerfully, ‘how many people would we have to kill for you to get this place?’ Harry shushes him but smiles and presses a kiss to his hairline.

They pause in the corridor and Eggsy steps closer to his side as Harry opens the Drawing Room door, ready to weather the storm. The tableau that greets them looks straight out of some appalling period drama; his father is stood by the fire with a snifter of brandy, already, even though it’s barely noon. His mother and John are stood by the bookcase, muttering furiously to each other; they look up sharply as Harry and Eggsy enter and their abrupt silence makes it clear that they were the topic of conversation. Edward, leaps up from his armchair with a grin and bounces over to them.

‘Everyone, this is Eggsy, Harry’s partner. I met him upstairs and I must say he’s a charming young man.’

No one moves for a beat and then politeness dictates that Harry’s father must step forward and shake Eggsy’s hand.

‘Pleased meet you, Sir,’ says Eggsy his grip firm but brief and Harry notes the small nod of acknowledgement before his father says quietly, ‘it’s John, if you would,’ and returns to his spot by the fire, removing himself from the proceedings in every sense but the physical.

Harry’s mother moves next, extends two fingers of her right hand which she snatches back sharply after the barest touch from Eggsy, ‘Lady Elizabeth Hart,’ she murmurs, the volume of her voice not indicative of shyness but an affectation, intended so one must pay close attention to her words or to be thought of as rude when one misses something.

‘This is my eldest son, John,’ she says gesturing behind her ‘and Edward you’ve met.’

John ignores Eggsy‘s proffered hand and strides to the opposite corner of the room where, sat at a card table, are Catherine and...Julia?

‘This is my wife,’ says John dismissively as Catherine gives them a small, meek smile, ‘and Julia Richardson-Cliffe, who was Henry’s special friend during our youth.’ He beams wolfishly, clearly incredibly pleased that he’s engineered what will undoubtedly make the next few days living hell.

Behind him Harry hears Eggsy echo, ‘Henry?...Oh,’ but he’s too busy shaking Julia’s hand, feeling instantly nauseous at the once over she gives him. He had thought they parted on good terms and he can’t imagine what story John, or more likely his mother, has spun her to get her here. She was the first person he came out to, for fuck’s sake, and they haven’t even seen each other since the long, hot summer of 1983 when they both turned 17.

Julia is turning to Eggsy now, shakes his hand, ‘charmed,’ while Harry flounders, unable to think of a single thing to say.

Edward, as ever, comes to the rescue, ‘lunch will be at one, so perhaps everyone would like to get ready, change, before then?’

There are murmurs of agreement all round and Harry suddenly finds himself swept up in the tide of everyone leaving for their respective rooms. Edward whispers, ‘sorry Harry I had no idea she was coming,’ but Harry shakes off the grip on his arm and bounds up the stairs, Eggsy’s quiet, ‘Harry?’ sounding exceptionally loud in the entrance hall.

*

Harry hears the quiet click of the door opening and closing, some time after he stormed upstairs, then the twin thumps of Eggsy pulling off his shoes and dropping them to the floor before the curtains of the bed flick open and Eggsy climbs in beside him. Harry doesn’t open his eyes but lets Eggsy slide in close, wraps an arm around his shoulders, apology and thanks for leaving him to soothe irritations in the wake of Harry’s swift departure.

‘Are you alright, Harry?’

Harry is silent for a long time before he answers, opens his eyes to see Eggsy looking at him sadly, ‘I worked for a long time to grow away from all this. It was never going to be a natural fit for me, I don’t stand to inherit and I could never quite fit the mould. I haven’t seen most of these people in ten years, I haven’t been to this house is fifteen but I thought by now we had reached an impasse. I thought they would stop trying to change me into something I can't be. Something I don’t want to be.’

‘But they can’t, change you I mean, so you can’t let it get to you. What they do doesn’t matter. Anyway Edward seems alright and your father. I think Catherine could be fun if you got her away from your brother.’

‘Yes, Edward is a good sort. I’d forgotten, I’m always lumping him in with John. And poor Julia god knows what they said to get her here.’

‘I wouldn't worry about her. Looks like she knows exactly what she’s doing, just wants to get her claws in a fit, well off bachelor. Bet she’s well jealous of me, what do you reckon, should I grope your arse a bit too often at dinner, play up the whole camp bit?’

‘If only I thought you could pull it off without laughing, dearest. And if your hands stray anywhere near my arse we’ll be thrown out.’

‘Shame. That wouldn't be so bad would it? We can be as gay as we like at home,’ this Eggsy says with a wink and his tongue tucked between his teeth, a move Harry has always found irresistible but now just reminds him of the gulf between their lives and the lives of his family.  

‘We can leave whenever you want, Harry. You don’t owe any of them a single thing.’

Eggsy’s right, of course, but in practice the truth of that statement is rather harder to achieve. Harry has had the privilege and the means to walk away for a long time and despite the fact he hasn’t been to their home in over a decade he hasn’t been without total contact from his family in that time. Wanting to let go and actually doing it are two very different things and although Eggsy was tied to his family, and their difficulties, for very different reasons before he met Harry he hasn’t abandoned them with his change in circumstances. Family is family no matter how much one wishes they might change. So, he merely pulls eggsy to him for a gentle kiss and tucks his chin in to Eggsy’s hair.

‘Thank you.’

‘I ain’t done nothing.’

‘Exactly.’

*

Harry sleeps through lunch, ignores the gentle tap on the door, and wakes up hours later to Eggsy having drooled all over his shirt.

‘Shit, sorry,’ says Eggsy, horrid post-nap breath hot against Harry’s face but Harry kisses him anyway, resists the urge to escalate and sweeps open the bed curtains.

‘Are they gonna be pissed we skived lunch?’

‘I should think so, god knows what they were imagining we were up to.’

Eggsy wiggles his eyebrows and prods at the damp, spreading shape on Harry’s chest, ‘yes, perverts that we are. Do you wanna shower? I feel well rank. Christmas daytime naps are the worst.’

‘You go first. And brush your teeth!’

Eggsy pokes his tongue out and starts shedding clothes on the way to the en-suite.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, listening to the ring of water on tiles as Eggsy starts the shower, Harry gives in to the gnawing hollow in his stomach that has nothing to do with the fact he’s not eaten since breakfast. There are more agendas at work here than he expected and not all of them malicious.

*

They take the main stairs down to the Dining Room this time and they’ve barely reached the bottom when Aunt Grace in acres of peach silk sweeps up the steps to greet them.

‘Henry, darling, take that sour look off your face, it’s Christmas not World War Three. And you must be Eggsy, Pet’s told us so much about you and I can see you are just as handsome as I was led to believe,’ she says as she kisses Eggsy on both cheeks before drawing Harry into a tight, lasting hug. When they draw apart she pats his cheek and looks at him kindly, a world of maternal affection Harry never got from his mother passing between them.

Grace takes Eggsy’s arm to lead him down the last few steps, ‘you must tell me how you managed to get Henry to settle down. I feared he would be a perpetual bachelor even though it didn’t suit him,’ this with a stern glance over her shoulder at Harry, ‘yet here you are.’

‘He got me to settle down really,’ says Eggsy, ‘I caught myself putting Radio 4 on the other day and Haz wasn’t even in the house!’

‘Oh, you are a treasure,’ says Grace, ‘and I must say you make a very handsome pair. If I was younger... although perhaps it wouldn’t have to be by much?’

She raises a wry eyebrow at Eggsy who blushes politely and whispers, ‘if only Harry weren’t the jealous type, eh?’

‘I know what you mean. Come and meet my Bernard. Second husband, you know, very eager to please,’ and to Harry, ‘don’t worry my awful daughter and her obnoxious husband couldn’t make it. If they hadn’t given me such charming grandchildren I’d have nothing to do with them at all!’

*

As they head into the Dining Room Harry finds himself suddenly separated from Eggsy across the vast expanse of the table and before he can rectify it his mother is pushing him sharply into a seat between John and Julia. Eggsy on the other side of the table is sat between Harry’s father and Edward but Harry is too far away to hear what they’re saying.

‘So, Harry,’ says Julia, ‘your mother tells me you own a tailors on Saville Row?’

John, unable to let go of a chance to put Harry down, says, ‘he _works_ for a tailors on Saville Row,’ which earns him a quelling glance from their mother.

‘Still, rather an odd choice after the Army isn’t it?’ says Julia.

‘I wanted a change of pace. And it’s where I met Eggsy so I can’t complain.’

Julia chooses to ignore this last statement, instead launching in to a long monologue about the accomplishments of her various children. Harry tunes her out in favour of watching Eggsy who is now _laughing_ with Harry’s father, their heads bent close together. He’s drawn from his utter astonishment by Julia’s hand on his arm, nails sharp even through his suit jacket, ‘have you ever thought about children, Harry?’

Harry looks at her, properly this time; her eyes shrewd like she has devised a plan of attack and does not expect to be drawn off course. He’s struck by the change the years have wrought between them; the intensity of friendships from one's youth are often not at all as they have been remembered. Julia is not in denial about the situation, clearly, certain promises have been made to her and no one thinks Harry will have the guts to object. Ten years is a long time and Harry will not be made to feel like he has no choice about the course of his own life, he took matters into his own hands when he joined Kingsman and rejected the path set out for him; his bones have shaken off the expectations of the past even if the bricks and mortar of his parents house haven’t.

‘I’m of the generation of gay men that never expected to have children,’ he says simply, ‘you’ll have to ask Eggsy, if he wanted a family I would be delighted to raise one with him.’

The table goes silent and Julia regards him with a tight purse to her lips while everyone stares at them. Edward, once again, breaks the tension, turning to Julia to say, ‘I heard from Theo that your Toby got in to Oxford?’ and the conversation moves on.

From across the table Eggsy offers Harry a small, private smile.

*

Harry struggles all the way through to the after dinner sherry in the Drawing Room before he can attempt an escape. Eggsy is nowhere to be found and he’s just heading through to the Library when his mother advances on him.

‘Henry, Julia’s glass is empty.’

‘Sorry, mother I must find Eggsy.’

‘It really is a waste of your time.’

‘I’m sure he’s just…’ he begins until he sees her face, unforgiving, ‘you don’t just mean looking for him.’

‘I don’t understand why you insist on persisting with a relationship that is so obviously unsuitable. There are plenty of eligible women, even at your age. There is no reason for you not to settle down.’

‘I’m not having this conversation with you, mother.’

She lowers her voice even further, ‘and this talk about starting a family. It’s wholly inappropriate.’

Harry looks at her, at the unwavering certainty on her face and gives in to the impulse, not to fight as he has done so many times before, but to simply walk away.

‘I said I’m not having this conversation with you.’

*

Their bedroom is in darkness, the open curtains throwing silvery moonlight over the bed where Eggsy is starfished face down in his boxers. Harry quietly strips out of his suit and gets into his pyjamas before worming his way under Eggsy’s thick, heavy limbs.

‘Hello Harry,’ Eggsy says, beaming, ‘your brother was trying to get me drunk.’

‘Really, which one?’

Eggsy makes a face, ‘Edward, obviously. Think he wanted some gossip out of me.’

‘And what did you tell him.’

‘Don’t worry, your reputation’s ruined. I told him you were a stud who knows exactly how to treat your fella. That I had no complaints in bed or out of it,’ he attempts a saucy wink but ends up blinking theatrically instead.

Harry gasps, mockingly affronted, ‘you never.’

‘No I never, it’s true though.’

‘Well next time he asks do try to lay the candour on thick. I have rather a lot of catching up to do having spent the majority of my youth sadly single.’

‘Babe, you have a 25 year old in your bed I don’t think anyone’s got the wrong impression about your abilities anymore. I could mention I’m a gymnast next time, ears behind my head and all.’

‘Yes, that would do nicely,’ says Harry kissing the closest bit of Eggsy he can reach, his shoulder, ‘what were you discussing with my father?’

‘You mostly. Probably the only thing we have in common. He’s alright, he cares about you.’

‘He can be very charming when he wants to. He cares about the family name.’

‘You can be very charming when you want to and he cares about more than that,’ says Eggsy as he seems to suddenly come to himself, arms and legs wrapping tighter around Harry as he slides one hand between the pearlescent buttons of Harry’s pyjama shirt. Harry closes his eyes and enjoys the gentle press of Eggsy’s fingers before catching hold of his hand, to which Eggsy grumbles in irritation, ‘Harry, come on!’

‘I am categorically not shagging you with my brother in the next room.’

‘Don’t be a spoilsport Harry, there’s the en-suite in between anyway.’

‘You’re drunk.’

‘Tipsy!’ says Eggsy petulantly and rolls away from Harry to shove a hand into his boxers. He manages one or two cursory pulls before sighing in frustration and stopping.

‘What’s the matter, darling, can’t get it up?’

‘Piss off, Harry, it’s no fun if you’re all the way over there, just watching.’

‘That can be wonderful fun as you well know, but not tonight.’ says Harry and pulls Eggsy over to kiss him soft and sweet until Eggsy is sleepily pliant against him.

Eggsy is quiet for long enough that Harry thinks he might have fallen asleep before he leans up on an elbow to say, ‘did you mean what you said, about having a family?’

‘It’s not so straightforward, because of our job if nothing else, but if you would like to discuss it we certainly can.’

‘You’re _such_ a romantic, Harry, _honestly_ ’ says Eggsy giving Harry a quick kiss before curling more comfortably against his side, ‘anyway you’d have to make an honest man out of me first.’

*

The following evening Harry is hiding in the library, Julia having finally left and having avoided his family all day except for increasingly tense meals, when Edward comes strolling in doing his best impression of someone without a single suspicious motive and failing miserably. Harry really should have learnt his lesson by now; nowhere in this house is free from interference.

‘Hello Harry.’

‘What can I do for you Ted?’

‘Oh nothing, nothing. No Eggsy this evening?’ says Edward, sitting and smiling placidly around the room at large.

‘He’s in the swimming pool.’

They sit in silence for a moment and Harry attempts to return to his book but Edward’s tuneless humming is enough to drive anyone mad.

‘For god's sake Ted, if you’ve something to say, out with it.’

‘Nothing really, just wanted to have a proper chat, you know, catch up.’

‘If you’ve come here because mother’s asked you to you’re wasting your time. And I’ll thank you to stop bothering Eggsy as well.’

‘Oh, do fuck off Harry. If you think for one moment I give a toss what mother thinks it’s because you’ve been away too long.’

Appropriately chastened Harry shifts in his seat and looks up to see Edward’s painfully earnest face.

‘Sorry. I _am_ sorry. There have been all sorts of surprises these last few days. You turning out to not be a little shit shouldn’t be one of them.’

Oh no, I’m definitely still a little shit,’ says Edward with a grin, ‘now tell me all about it. Properly.’

‘Surely we’re too old for locker room talk?’

‘If you’re too old to talk about it you’re too old to do it and from what I managed to get out of Eggsy that doesn’t seem to be a problem,’ Edward raises an eyebrow in a lascivious sort of leer that doesn’t at all suit him and Harry bursts into peals of laughter.

‘Good lord is this how you and John talk?’

‘Of course not, he’s a terrible prude. I alway knew you’d be a goer when you found the right man.’

‘Eggsy found me really. At my age, in my line of work. I never expected…’

‘I’m sure as a _tailor_ you put everyone off.’

Harry blanches, recovers, Edward is only teasing, ‘well, you know, unsociable hours that sort of thing.’

‘Useful, then, when the man of your dreams walks in through the door?’

Harry can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, ‘not sure I’m the man of _his_ dreams but…yes, I suppose he’s the man of mine.’

‘Please, I see the way he looks at you. He’s just as smitten as you are.’

‘He’s just _kind._ That always sounds so trite to say about someone but he has compassion in abundance and…’

‘For god’s sake don’t get sentimental, I’ll have to be sick. Now, what’s this I hear about him being a former gymnast?’

‘Who told you that?!’

‘Pet follows him on, whatsit, instagram? Showed me some photograph of him doing the splits last time we went to lunch.’

Harry makes a mental note to tell Eggsy off for even having a social media account of any kind. Honestly it’s like he forgets they’re spies sometimes. But for now he merely leans back in his seat with a raised eyebrow and says, ‘old chap you have no idea.’

‘You lucky bugger, can he really get his feet behind his head?’

‘And the rest.’

‘Christ. Maybe I ought to have a midlife crisis.’

‘You definitely couldn’t keep up.’

Edward sniffs pompously and draws himself up in his chair with a glint in his eye, ‘I think I could show Eggsy a good time, given half the chance.’

‘You wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘I’m not blind Harry, I can see he’s a very handsome young man, which I believe can carry one most of the way.’

‘Don’t let mother hear you say that.’

‘Mother can go hang. Never fear, your boy is safe from me, even if I could get him to take his eyes off you for more than 30 seconds. I am happy for you Harry,’ his face is shiny with boyish excitement and Harry is struck with sudden need to be honest.

‘Will you still be happy for me when I tell you I just might have to marry him.’

‘What did I just say about sentiment? That serious is it?’ says edward beaming, ‘you always were the long term commitment type and the best looking, it would have been such a waste. The confirmed bachelor act you were trying to maintain fooled exactly nobody. I’ll be best man?’

Harry thinks of Merlin, where ruffled feathers can be most easily smoothed, and says, ‘of course.’

‘Haz, are you in here? Oh, alright Edward?’ says Eggsy in the doorway looking pink and damp at the edges, a faint smell of chlorine clinging to him.

‘Eggsy, wonderful, we were just talking about you,’ says Edward with a warm smile.

‘Oh, yeah?’ says Eggsy, sliding onto Harry’s lap in a move far too coquettish to be genuine, and winks at Edward, ‘do you want me to show you how I get my feet behind my head?’

Edward, to his credit, only blushes gently as he stands to take his leave, ‘dear boy, I think it’s best if you leave that little show to Harry. I don’t think my heart could take it.’

*

Petronella, Heidi and George arrive by taxi in the evening, the day before New Year’s Eve. Bearing cases of champagne and already half cut they are chased out of the house by Harry’s mother’s disapproval so they take their party out to the summerhouse. Harry watches from the window as they dash across the lawn, Eggsy easily leading the charge, quickly swallowed by the darkness.

‘Do you remember when we used to behave like that?’ says Catherine, a quiet voice at his shoulder.

Catherine, the only daughter of a Viscount who came up with their father, was a fixture throughout their childhood and adolescence, spent at a variety of estates, looked after by nannies, except when Harry and his brothers were away at Harrow and Catherine was at Roedean. It was always assumed she would marry one of them; Harry vividly remembers sharing a cigarette pinched from his father behind the very summerhouse they’re gazing at during the holidays when they were 14 and she whispered that if it had to be any of them she would pick him. Some years after he told Julia he was gay he confided in Catherine but she was dating John by then and let the secret slip. Harry has never quite forgiven her for taking the manner in which he could tell his family out of his hands all while mourning the loss of the funny, vivacious girl who disappeared when she married his brother, lost to familial obligation.

‘I do believe there’s absolutely nothing stopping us,’ says Harry, letting challenge colour his tone.

‘We couldn’t, _I_ couldn’t,’ she says, eyes wide.

Harry takes pity on her then, takes her hand and smiles, ‘Cat, if there’s one thing Eggsy’s taught me it’s that you can’t live your life for other people. You can love them and care for them but you must live for yourself.’

When she speaks it's sudden, like she's been holding it in, ‘I was sorry, you know, about what happened. I never had a chance to explain...’

‘What’s done is done. It doesn't matter now.’

‘I am glad you’re happy, Harry,’ all these people _happy_ for him in the face of everything is not at all what he expected when he came here.

‘Are we going to join this party or not? We’ll have too much catching up to do if we don’t hurry.’

Catherine looks over her shoulder as if expecting to find judge, jury and executioner watching her before she smiles and nods, 21 again, home from university and causing trouble with Harry.

*

In the summerhouse the air is sweet and Eggsy rather unsuccessfully attempts to conceal the joint in his hand, hangdog expression on his face, although he visibly relaxes when he sees Harry.

‘Is there room at this party for a couple of old fogies?’ says Catherine.

‘Uncle Harry, Aunt Cat, come in!’ says Petronella tilting a bottle of champagne at them with a smile.

Catherine perches warily on the edge of the sofa and accepts a glass of champagne from Heidi with a murmured thanks. Harry sits himself down on the floor beside Eggsy and snags the joint from his fingers just to watch Eggsy’s eyes go wide with shock.

‘You’re full of surprises, Uncle Harry,’ says George, ‘Eggsy was just telling us how you seduced him.’

Harry looks askance at Eggsy who’s smirking but is otherwise giving nothing away. The true nature of their first foray into romance, sex and for heaven’s sake, _love_ is highly classified and, if you ask Merlin, deeply embarrassing.

‘Well, he rather seduced me I think,’ _that_ is the truth, ‘and how could I resist?’

‘I wouldn’t.’

‘Heidi!’

‘What? Have you seen him!’

They all laugh, George takes the joint and Eggsy leans warmly into Harry’s side, says in an undertone, ‘I’m starting to think you’re only with me for my body, Harry.’

‘Yes, and you’re only with me for my money.’

‘Too right.’

*

In a quiet moment while Heidi and Petronella thoroughly trounce Eggsy and George at a game of pool Harry leans against the fireplace and watches them.

‘You look like your father when you do that,’ says Catherine.

Harry laughs, ‘don’t say that, I’ve tried so hard not to become my parents.’

‘You’re more like your father than you know. He’s always been very kind to me,' she says before she blows out a breath and closes her eyes, even through the pleasant, hazy sensation of the champagne Harry can tell she’s about to say something important, ‘Harry,’ she begins, ‘you didn’t let me finish earlier and I know it’s not an excuse but I wanted to tell you. I didn’t tell John about you.’

‘I don’t understand…?’

‘I wrote it in my diary. I can only assume he read it and…’ her hand flies to her mouth, eyes shiny.

‘He would do that?’ says Harry, his own anger fading, replaced with fury that John would betray his wife to be in that manner.

‘I don’t keep a diary any more,’ she says simply.

‘And you married him anyway.’

‘I didn’t really have a choice.'

'No, none of us have that.'

'I'll leave you all to it,' she says, handing Harry her glass, 'this isn't really me anymore.'

'Thank you, for telling me and for joining me this evening.'

'It's so nice to have you back, Harry. We’ve been so lucky in so many ways. You’ve been the luckiest of us all.’

A cheer from the other side of the room interrupts them and they look over to see Petronella kissing Heidi in celebration while George flips them off. Eggsy is drinking straight from a bottle of champagne, looking mutinous but when he sees Harry looking his face shines.

‘Haven’t I just.’

*

‘This place is bigger than my old flat,’ says Eggsy stumbling into Harry as he stops on the way back into the main room of the summerhouse after giving Eggsy a quick tour. Harry puts his finger to his lips and steps into the darkness of the corridor. The chatter in the room beyond has gone suddenly silent, the cold air from the open door seems to get even colder at the sound of Harry’s mother hissing, ‘what is the meaning of this?’

Harry grabs Eggsy hand, ‘this way,’ and drags him to the back door of the summerhouse, so they can slip out into the dark of the grounds.

‘We can’t just leave them all to get a bollocking from your mum!’

‘We absolutely can. Now shh!’

The night is freezing but the buzz from the champagne warms them as they skirt the golden light thrown from the windows. Harry takes them along the edge of the small copse of trees that obscures the summerhouse, ‘don’t wander off, there’s a lake through there and we can’t have you falling in.’

Once they reach the end of the line of trees, out of earshot of the summerhouse Harry points, ‘that's the Orangery, if we make a dash for it one of the panes is loose.’

‘That how you snuck in and out of the house when you were young was it?’

‘Don’t be absurd. I used the drainpipe by my bedroom window.’

Eggsy snorts then claps his hands over his mouth to stifle it, eyes wide, ‘what if we get caught.’

‘Darling, we are spies. I should think we were capable of evading my mother.’

‘Haven’t normally drunk a bottle and half of champagne with a spliff to wash it down though have we?’

‘Speak for yourself, I remember the 80s. Now, come on.’

The grass is damp underfoot, their leather soled shoes slipping as they run towards the Orangery, its glass roof glinting with frost. Eggsy reaches it first, breath misting in the air and colour riding high on his cheekbones and Harry can do nothing but cup his face with freezing fingers to kiss him deeply. Eggsy laughs when they break apart, a high delighted sound and pulls Harry back in, gently tracing Harry’s face with the cold tip of his nose, his warm lips. He leans back against the building, looking at Harry from under his lashes, ‘it’s cold out here, Harry.’

‘Then come with me,’ Harry takes Eggsy’s hand and pulls him around the corner to where the pane of glass is loose and he can unlock the door. Inside the air is warm, raising goosebumps on Harry’s skin; the lines of fruit trees are regimented and orderly, looking like soldiers standing to attention in the silvery light.

Eggsy walks backwards, Harry’s hands in his, until the backs of his knees hit a cast iron bench and he pulls them both down on to it, side by side. They breathe each others air for a moment until Harry murmurs, ‘Eggsy, I…’

‘I know Harry,’ says Eggsy, pulls him in for another kiss.

Harry kisses along Eggsy’s jaw, scrapes his teeth against the beauty mark on his throat, a favoured spot.

‘Oi, what’ll everyone think.’

‘I don’t give a shit what everyone will think,’ murmurs Harry as he sinks to his knees.

Harry slides his hands up to the heat and strength of Eggsy’s thighs as Eggsy glances a hand through Harry’s hair and sinks back into the seat. Harry leans in to breathe the hot, damp scent of him, the clinging smell of weed and the cold air from the garden, as he pushes Eggsy’s shirt out of his trousers to kiss the tense plane of his stomach.

Eggsy bumps the toe of his shoe to Harry’s side to spur him on and the little, restless shifting of his hips is all the invitation Harry needs to get Eggsy’s flies open and let his cock spring up against his stomach. Harry presses a thumb, gently, to the velvet-smooth skin of Eggsy’s balls to make him moan, clipped and breathy, before licking a path up his dick to the head, already dripping.

‘Harry, Harry,’ says Eggsy, his head thrown back, and Harry takes a moment to appreciate the hard floor under his knees, the sweat prickling under his arms and the bend of his elbows, the slight chill at his back from the missing pane of glass and the feel of Eggsy warm against him.

Eggsy’s murmurs become a touch more petulant so Harry takes pity and takes the tip of Eggsy’s cock into his mouth just to hear him whine. Harry presses forward, breathing through his nose, until he can feel Eggsy’s dick hit the back of his throat and looks up to see Eggsy looking down at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth, looking dazed and worshipful. He wants to take his time, savour the moment, but although it’s the middle of the night it would not do to be caught on his knees in the Orangery. So, he swallows theatrically, feels his throat constrict round the head of Eggsy’s dick and tears spring to his eyes before he begins to move; fast, efficient movement, hollowing his cheeks on each pass until Eggsy’s swearing and tipping his hips forward.

Harry’s own cock is hard and trapped in his trousers. He slides one hand down from his grip on Eggsy’s thigh to palm himself and the groan it draws out of him reverberates through Eggsy’s dick making him kick his heels and grip Harry’s hair, hard. The sharp yank makes Harry groan again and he tries to take Eggsy deeper, hand in his own trousers to fist his dick with quick strokes. The sudden tang spreading across his tongue lets him know Eggsy is close, spurs on the movement of his own hand chasing the spiraling pleasure. A door slams in the distance, urgency and the threat of discovery, and Harry comes over his hand while Eggsy scrapes his fingernails over Harry’s scalp.

‘Shit, Harry, you like that? You want them to walk in on us?’ says Eggsy, as Harry reapplies himself to the task, his own pleasure already ebbing as Eggsy slumps even further forward and comes, gasping. Harry swallows and surges up to kiss him, lets him lick the taste of his own come from Harry’s mouth and then the taste of Harry’s come from his fingers.

They tidy themselves up as best they can and sneak back to their room. The house is quiet now and the grounds dark; only faint, wet footprints in the hallway indicate that anyone was out of bed at all.

*

The mood at the breakfast table is subdued. Harry’s mother ignores the boiled egg in front of her and surveys the table with a sharp eye while Harry’s father remains silent behind his newspaper. Across from Harry and Eggsy Petronella, Heidi and George are gazing into their porridge with feigned contrition going by the grins they keep attempting to conceal. Although, they do throw the occasional dirty look at Harry; evidently their midnight flit away from a scalding did not go unnoticed. Harry feels buoyant, as though he has let something go, and beneath the table Eggsy keeps their hands firmly entwined so at the next glance from George Harry merely raises an imperious eyebrow and gets a grin in response. His mother’s sharp exhale of irritation gets the attention of everyone at the table but it’s Grace who breaks the silence.

‘For heaven’s sake Elizabeth what _is_ your problem this morning?’ she sounds stern but Harry can see the corners of her mouth twitching as though she’s sorry not to be in on the joke. Catherine next to her has flushed pink, as guilty as they are for slipping away before they were discovered, but she keeps catching Eggsy’s eye and smiling slightly.

‘My _problem_ as you so inelegantly put it is that half of our assembled party are incapable of behaving like adults going by the state I found them in yesterday evening.’

‘I’m sure it was just a bit of fun,’ says Edward, placating, ‘it is the holidays, you know. I wouldn’t mind an invite next time, chaps.’

‘I’m sure you would and isn’t that just _your_ problem,’ says Elizabeth sharply and Edward is shocked into stillness, his spoon halfway to his mouth. Edward has spent the majority of his life being effectively ignored. Difficult as that can be in other ways it means he generally avoids being told off and is naturally surprised by a stern tone of voice turned in his direction.

‘I can’t think what you mean, mother.’

Elizabeth does not deign to elucidate her point, smacking her egg firmly with a teaspoon as if to punctuate the conversation, ‘we shall speak no more about it.’

‘Evidently you would like to discuss it,’ says Grace, ‘if you’re going to sit there with a face like a slapped arse and ruin everyone’s breakfast.’

John makes an affronted noise rather like the waterfowl he usually hunts and goes to stand beside his mother, whose face has gone suddenly red, helpfully illustrating Grace’s point, while the rest of the assembled company descends into hysterical laughter.

‘That is enough,’ says Harry’s father, emerging from behind his newspaper, to resounding silence, ‘Henry, if you would come with me please.’

*

Harry’s father’s office is imposing in the way of all seats of power; Chester King’s office was much the same, before Harry took on the mantle of Arthur, but there at least he didn’t carry the weight of familial expectation and disappointment. Harry sits on the hard seat gazing at the portraits of his grandfather and great grandfather above his father’s head and feels all of ten years old. Today he regards Harry with a level look and _smiles_ like he did when Harry won the cricket cup age 12, when he got in to Cambridge or he came home to say he was leaving the Army and going into _tailoring._

Harry has felt many times before now that his father is all seeing, despite his silence and his reticence, he does pay attention to what is going on in his home, ‘I do not know how you managed to evade detection yesterday evening but if I were a betting man I would put money on you having been at that soiree last night.’

Harry opens his mouth but his father holds up a hand and regards Harry from over his glasses, ‘one had hoped you had found someone to settle down with but if that person is 25 years old what can one expect,’ he shrugs but he’s still smiling and Harry feels like he’s looking at a perfect stranger.

‘Yes, well you know what they say,’ Harry begins.

‘You’re as old as the man you feel?’ rejoins his father and Harry briefly wonders if he hasn’t been slipped some kind of hallucinogen but his father continues seriously, ‘in your line of work nothing can be taken for granted and if this young man has chosen to throw his lot in with you don’t squander it.’

Harry is stunned, manages to get out, ‘I won’t father,’ before his father continues, ‘see that you don’t. Your mother might be stuck in her ways but she won’t be here forever. And she doesn’t hold anything over you. Having young people in the house again makes the world of difference’

‘You could speak to her. Tell her your view,’ says Harry, ‘the _young people_ won’t come back if this is the reception they get.’

‘One leads by example. Who do you think asked Petronella to invite your young man for Christmas? If you are all here more often your mother will have to get used to the new way of things as we have done many times over, for many years,’ says his father, voice still level.

It’s as close to acceptance as he’s ever going to get, but Harry bristles at the implication that he must be grateful. His mother will never change, the responsibility will always be on everyone else to bend to her unmoving will.

‘Henry, you must meet us halfway with this. I know what you expected to find when you came here with Gary; it has not been entirely as you thought it would? It does no one any good if you won’t be the bigger man.’

‘I have found that I have had to be the bigger man since I was ten years old I should think it’s time someone else takes on that mantle now,' his voice rising in anger.

‘It is not easy when ones child does not turn out as one expected. Your mother…’

‘It’s not easy when ones family refuses to accept who one is!’

‘We never threw you out, we never disinherited you.’

‘More to avoid a scandal than for any other reason I’m sure.’

‘Henry! You are my son as much as John and Edward. I am proud of all three of you. If I have been slow at understanding I apologise but there has been no absence of _love.’_

That simple thought, all Harry has been longing to hear his whole life, stuns him in to incoherency, ‘I...thank you…’

‘There’s no need to thank me, it is a simple truth and ought to be expressed more often. Now, you’ll agree to come back with Gary for Easter? If _Saville Row_ can spare you?’

‘I’ll see what can be done,’ Harry says and his father nods abruptly, closed off again. Harry recognises the dismissal and heads out to find Eggsy, world off kilter and in need of the stability he finds in Eggsy's open gaze, the touch of his hands.

*

Eggsy is behind the wheel of Harry’s Jaguar, engine idling, when Harry comes down with their bags. He’s not looking at the house but up the drive which will lead them away, back to London, and their regular lives which are immeasurably harder in some ways and so much easier in others. Harry stops on the steps to watch him in the cold morning light and when Eggsy turns, sees him and smiles, fresh and vibrant, it makes Harry’s heart jump to his throat.

Eggsy rolls down the window, ‘goin’ my way guv?’

‘Don’t you want to say goodbye?’

‘Said goodbye last night. Edward’s invited us to dinner back in London. Didn’t speak to your mum. Thought me leaving would probably cheer her up.’

‘You’re determined to make a bad first impression then?’ says Harry but he leans down to kiss Eggsy through the window all the same, chaste but unmistakable.

Once Harry's put their suitcases in the car and got into the passenger seat, Eggsy turns to him, ‘does it matter? What impression I make? She’d already made her mind up before I walked through the door. And we won’t have to see her again anytime soon.’

‘Father has invited us for Easter so we’ll be back soon enough.’

‘You sure you want to?’

Eggsy puts the car into gear and begins to draw away from the house, the motion conducive to revelations and honesty, so Harry says, ‘yes, I rather think I do. I have been underestimating my family for some time.’

Eggsy takes his hand off the gear stick to catch Harry’s hand in his, ‘you underestimate yourself. You don’t have to deal with your mother if you don’t want but you shouldn’t cut yourself off from the rest of them.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t have one without the other.’

‘Well, I need to come back to get the Audi or Merlin’ll have my knackers and Easter’s a good a time as any. If you reckon, ah, Arthur will let us have the time off?’

‘Cheeky shit,’ says Harry, kissing Eggsy’s knuckles. He has his grandfather’s wedding ring in his pocket, a request easily obliged by his father, and he is full of gratitude that his family, as far as it extends between himself and Eggsy, is safe and strong because it has been chosen rather than inherited.

 


End file.
